


Mending

by Lise



Series: Tapestries [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Family Drama, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loki Angst, Loki Has Issues, Mental Health Issues, Odin's B+ Parenting, Post-Avengers (2012), things are sort of better than they are in canon, this isn't what therapy looks like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 21:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11791560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: On return to Asgard, Loki expected the axe or a cell. What he gets is something else: choices.What do you want, Loki?(The sequel toUnraveling.)





	Mending

**Author's Note:**

> Was there going to be a sequel to Unraveling? The answer I would've given you at the time was "haha, no, this is a oneshot." And then someone went and asked me what I would write if there were a sequel, and then I ended up offering said sequel as bribery to encourage [TheOtherOdinson](http://theotherodinson.tumblr.com) to write something for _me_ , and here we are. 
> 
> And what I learned from the experience is that one can only barely start to address Loki's family issues in almost 10,000 words. 
> 
> With immense thanks to [the usual suspect](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com), my most excellent beta.

_I want nothing you have to offer. Damn you and all of Asgard, old man - you can all burn and I will laugh to see you fall._

Loki rehearsed the words over and over, repeating them in his mind until he was certain he could speak them without hesitation, without his voice shaking or wavering. When Odin returned he would say them. Odin’s mercy was a lie as everything else he had offered Loki was a lie. He would not reach for it. Would not ask for it. He would not let them forget him, would not let them bury him in a cell to rot.

He would take the axe, first. Perhaps he would challenge Odin to wield it himself. 

_Think on what you want,_ Odin had said, and Loki knew it was not truly a choice. It was bait, and Loki was not going to take it. 

Content with his decision, he slept. Or at least, intended to sleep. He woke up screaming, _howling_ like an animal, and Eir herself (he was told) had to use magic to sedate him. Loki only vaguely remembered all of this, except that he woke with his throat raw and no sign of Odin. 

Of course, Loki thought bitterly. Odin would make him wait. Make Loki ask for the gift of his presence. Well, he would not ask. Let Odin, for once, be the one to come to him. 

Thor, however, did come. 

“Loki,” he said with a wan smile. “I am glad to see you...looking well.”

Loki barked a laugh. “You are no better a liar than you ever were.”

“I _am_ glad,” Thor said more forcefully, striding over, and against his will Loki remembered the brush of his thumb wiping blood away from the corner of his mouth. He pushed the memory away, hard. 

“Then was the _looking well_ the lie? Or being glad to see me in such a state? After all, I must be so much easier to pity when I am dying in your arms.” 

Loki thought he saw Thor flinch. “Do not say such things,” he said. “You know it is not true.”

“Do I.” Loki turned his gaze back toward the ceiling. “What do you want, Odinson?” 

He could hear Thor falter. Startled, no doubt, that things were not going according to his plan. “I wanted to see you. Father has not allowed it until now. He said you needed rest.”

“I am sure he did,” Loki said coldly. So his isolation was intentional. Perhaps meant to break down his resistance. And Thor to do the same? Well, the old fool would be disappointed. “And you have seen me. Begone.” 

“Loki…” Thor sounded reproachful. Loki twisted to snarl at him, and gasped at the spike of pain through his still mending innards. Thor was at his side in a moment, hand on his shoulder. “Brother, lie back - I will call the healers-”

Loki grabbed his arm. “No,” he said harshly. “It is unnecessary.” Thor looked doubtful, his expression prodding at something Loki tried to keep buried. 

“I am sorry,” he said. “I did not mean to upset you, while you are still healing. I only wanted...I have missed you.” 

Loki laughed, even if it hurt. “As a light misses its shadow.” 

Thor’s expression darkened again. “No,” he said. “As I missed my brother, whom I love.” 

Loki turned his head away to better mask his expression. “Did the All-Father send you here?”

“What? No!” Thor sounded startled by the question. “I had to ask him to allow...what did you speak of? He would not say.”

Loki wondered why Odin had not shared the news of Loki’s treachery, the depths of his perfidy. “I do not see that is any of your business.”

“But I would know,” Thor persisted. “It seemed to distress him. I know you do not believe he cares for you, but he-”

Loki hissed. “You _are_ here for him,” he said. “To plead his case? To try to persuade me to beg for his clemency? Tell him that he can come and speak to me himself. I will not accept you as a messenger to bear my words hence.” 

Thor seemed startled. “I only wish to understand,” he said. Loki turned to his side, facing away from Thor, closing his eyes and pressing his lips together. Thor continued to try to speak, but Loki held his silence close until he gave up and went away. 

What trick was this? What test was Odin giving him? 

Loki worried at the question until exhaustion overcame him and he slept a sleep of nightmares where Odin and Thanos tugged him back and forth between them until they ripped him in two.

* * *

The healers fussed over him interminably. They poked and prodded and examined until Loki wanted to hiss and curl away from them, their hovering faces flashing to something else and then back again. It made his skin crawl and left him edgy and restless, struggling to stay still even if moving set him to aching. He hadn’t realized how far he had pressed his body, heedless of his own needs, until he had nothing to occupy his mind. 

Nothing except chewing at his own tail, picking over Odin’s words and rehearsing what he would say to the old man, trying to shut out his doubts. 

_What do you want, Loki?_

As though it mattered what _he_ wanted. 

It was Frigga, next. Loki flinched from her and then forced his lip to curl. “I am amazed that he did not send you first, thinking to soften me for his manipulations.” 

Frigga did not ask which _he_ Loki meant. She sat down gracefully, instead. “Why do you assume that I must have been sent, rather than choosing to come myself?” She reached for his hand and Loki pulled it away, telling himself he did not care about the flash of hurt that showed before she smiled at him again. 

“Because nothing happens in this palace that the All-Father does not will,” Loki said tightly. “And he seems to have determined to try to put me back on his leash.”

Frigga’s smile turned sad. “You give your father-”

“He is _not_ my father,” Loki hissed. Frigga regarded him with such equanimity that Loki felt himself flush, somehow feeling childish for the outburst. He took a breath. “You know that as well as I.” 

“It is not solely blood that makes a father,” Frigga said. “Did you know that Lady Alfsa’s daughter was not born of her?” 

“I imagine _her_ daughter is still Aesir,” Loki said tightly. “I am aware of the facts of adoption, All-Mother. But one does not _adopt_ an animal into one’s family and call it your child.”

Frigga’s nostrils flared and Loki saw her anger, the temper she held so well in check but that was as fearsome as Odin’s. He’d seen it last when one of the serving girls had come to her bruised and trying to hide her tears. Loki had been sitting with Frigga at the time, and she had straightened up, her eyes turning to fire. 

_Who did this to you,_ she had asked, coldly. 

She had the same expression now. “If anyone else called my son an _animal_ I would strike them down where they stood,” she said. “But I will not strike you, because you are my son and no animal at all. And I think you have been hurt enough, of late.” The shrewdness of her gaze made Loki want to shrink away. 

“What is it you think you know,” he sneered, something in him shriveling up at the idea that Odin might have told her, that _Eir_ might have told her what she had seen, the sorry tale his body told. That she might know his weakness. 

Perhaps all of them did by now. Asgard’s court, whispering with disgust and shame about what her fallen prince had done for the sake of a few drops of blood. 

“What is it I _should_ know?” Frigga asked, so gentle, so _patient,_ and Loki felt it like fingernails plucking at his nerves. 

“ _Don’t,_ ” Loki said, and hated the slight tremble in his voice. “Don’t pretend that it matters. Stop pretending that you are here for me. What did he tell you? Did he instruct you-”

Frigga’s voice cracked like a whip. “Do you truly think that I simply follow your father’s instructions, meekly doing his bidding? Do you truly know me so little as that, my son, after so short a time away?”

“Do not call me your son!” Loki said, pushing himself up for all his arms trembled and his heart pounded too fast. “I am not-”

“If you could disclaim me so easily,” Frigga said, and though her voice was quiet, Loki’s seemed to die before it, “our bond would indeed be as weak as you seem to believe.”

Loki wavered, struck dumb, and Frigga nodded and sat back, seeming satisfied. “That is better. I would have thought I taught you better than to communicate by shouting.” Loki felt absurdly chastened, as though he were a child again, and the feeling just made him angrier. 

“What do you want,” he said flatly (sullenly). 

“I wanted to speak to my son,” Frigga said, and this time he did not correct her aloud. “When Thor brought you back, you were so very still and weak. Eir doubted you would live, though she was cautious not to say as much to either your father or Thor.” 

Those words, _your father,_ grated against his nerves. He forced his expression into a sneer. “You can thank one of Thor’s newfound friends for that.”

“I would sooner thank them for keeping you alive until you came home,” Frigga said quietly. “After what you did to their home. Loki...you have acted in a way unworthy of you.” 

That word, _unworthy,_ sunk into his heart like a knife. “When have I been worthy of anything,” he snapped, “except my value as a _trophy_ of Asgard’s victory?” 

Frigga frowned. “Do you truly believe that? That we do not value you?”

“I do not merely believe, I know,” Loki said. 

“Do you?” Frigga said. “Do you know that it was not me or Thor who sat vigil while the healers did their work, but your father? And that when he left you to your rest, he came to me and wept-”

Loki’s stomach lurched. “Stop lying to me,” he snapped. “The All-Father weeps for Asgard betrayed, not for me.” He remembered, suddenly, the anger in Odin’s voice. _Your allies? Say the truth: your torturers._

“It is no lie,” Frigga said, her voice hardening. “And what he told me, Loki…” Her expression, terribly, softened. “I am sorry.”

Loki tensed, an awful shiver going through him. “Sorry for what?” he hissed. “I can think of any number of things you might apologize for.”

“I am sorry for what you suffered,” Frigga said. “What you must have endured in the Void, that left you so wounded.”

“It was not the Void that left me wounded,” Loki said. Frigga raised her eyebrows. 

“No?” She said softly, and Loki wanted to shiver again. “Eir tells a different story, about the marks that still linger, however the skin has healed. But I was referring more to wounds of the soul.” 

Loki swallowed hard. “Sentimental nonsense,” he sneered. “You mistake my growing beyond you and yours for woundedness.” He turned his face from her. “I do not wish to speak to you further.” 

Frigga’s fingers touched his jaw and turned his face back toward her. He flinched, at first, but the soft brush on his skin sent a strange current through him, stirring up a longing that he quickly shoved down. “And you mistake your scars for growth,” she murmured, and then pulled away, standing. “I will leave you to your rest.” 

_Tell the All-Father that I tire of waiting,_ Loki almost said, but he held it back. He would not give Odin the satisfaction of knowing that he was making Loki uneasy. “There is no rest for me so long as I am here.” 

Frigga closed her eyes, looking for a moment horribly sad. “I hope you will find it otherwise, soon,” she said. “Remember that you are loved.”

 _Love is a bitter poison,_ Loki thought. _I drank it and your lies and choked on it. What comfort is your love to me now?_

But when she left he did not feel relief - just a miserable, shriveled sort of smallness. 

* * *

Odin was stalling. Deliberately trying to drive Loki into a frenzy, to force him to come crawling on his knees. Maybe he thought if he waited long enough Loki would submit. 

He might be right. 

_What do you want from me? What do you want me to do, to be? You call me your son, but I am not. What am I meant to think? Tell me what I have to do-_

Eir came - the first healer to see to him that he recognized. She did not smile - she very seldom did. She did look at him and frown. 

“Have you been sleeping?” She asked. 

_No._ Loki said nothing, just looked back at her in silence. She pressed her lips together and glanced at the half finished meal sitting on the table beside him. 

“Decreased appetite, insomnia,” she said. “What else?” 

“I think you have invaded my privacy enough,” Loki said flatly. Eir looked decidedly unimpressed. 

“I am your healer. It is my duty to assess your physical and mental condition.” 

“You mean whether or not I am mad?” Loki said. 

“The All-father requested that I look for signs of what may have caused your...break, yes.”

_Break. What a word for it. Like I am a piece of wood that snapped._

It was not, upon consideration, inapt. 

And the All-father sought proof of his madness. Why? To dismiss him, bury him as a weak-minded embarrassment? To dismiss his actions and erase the stain on the family name? “And your findings?” He asked, almost sneering. 

“It is difficult to assess the mind when the patient is unconscious,” Eir said calmly. “Hence my questions now - though scars such as those you bear frequently leave...aftereffects.” 

Loki just managed not to shudder. Aftereffects. That was a good word for it, the way it felt like the faded marks on his skin had engraved themselves somewhere deeper that didn’t heal. He said nothing, once again. It seemed that was his only defense, these days, when everyone sought to pull the meaning they wanted from his words and he couldn’t seem to stop them. 

“You have a history of sleeplessness,” Eir said, apparently undeterred. “And you have never been a heavy eater, but as you are healing you require more energy to sustain the process. I can provide a potion to help with the former-”

“No,” Loki said harshly. She raised her eyebrows, and he said, “I do not want to be - _drugged_ into oblivion.”

“Depriving yourself of sleep and food will greatly slow your healing,” Eir said.

“Does it matter?” Loki said. “I am for the traitor’s sentence anyway. What difference if I should die well fed and rested or otherwise?” 

Eir’s eyebrows rose further. “I do not know how you think to know that for certain, when the All-father has announced no such thing.” 

Loki seized on that. “And what _has_ he announced, Healer?” He asked. “What explanation has been given?” 

“That the second prince is wounded and recovering,” Eir said. Loki stared at her, his mouth going dry. _Impossible._ He could not have said those words. Stood before Asgard and called Loki _second prince,_ or proclaimed his injury, not if he intended to condemn him later. His thoughts scrambled over each other, searching some rationale. What was the old man _playing_ at? 

“Loki,” Eir said, her voice low and calm. “Breathe deeply.”

He hadn’t even noticed that he’d been doing otherwise.

“Do you often find yourself struggling with this?” Eir asked. “Difficulty or rapidity of breathing?” 

“No,” Loki lied. He remembered sitting in the dark underground, struggling to get his lungs under control, his hawk’s hand between his shoulder blades saying _breathe with me._ Eir made a sort of “hm” sound. 

“I wish to help you,” Eir said. “I fear there may be a sickness in your mind.” 

Loki laughed wildly. “If that is so then there always has been,” he said. “I have always been sick. I’ve just stopped trying to be anything else.”

Eir sighed like she was dealing with a recalcitrant child, and Loki was flooded with rage. “Get out,” he said, through clenched teeth. She looked at him, frowning. 

“I have not finished-”

“ _Get out!_ ” Loki howled, groping for the nearest thing to hand. He threw the plate at her head as hard as he could. It didn’t strike her, of course; it shattered harmlessly against the wall and Loki felt the bindings constrict around him, punishing him. He cried out, half in pain and half in anger, and then screamed at her, feral and animal. 

Two other healers came. It took both of them to hold him down. A third had to trigger the magic that forced him down into sleep. 

* * *

He dreamed:

The awful gravity of the Void, dragging at his heels, howling at him, and this time he could hear the voice in it: _unworthy, worthless, make an end to it, coward, what have you ever been good for, have you ever once in your life-_

The Chitauri pulling him apart joint by joint, laying out the pieces, Thanos saying _yes, now pin him back together_ and he tried to tell them they were doing it all wrong but they weren’t listening.

Crawling up the stairs out of the shattered wreckage his body had made, the pulped remains of his insides filling him up with blood. It hurt, it _hurt_ and he could see Thor, his hawk, the rest of them watching him, cold and disinterested. It was going to take hours to die. _Please, Thor,_ he pleaded. _End it now._

Thor shook his head. _No,_ he said coldly. _You don’t deserve it._

_You should have died gracefully when you had the chance._

He could feel someone drawing him upwards out of sleep, the dreams seeping away a little at a time until he was free, gasping, drenched in cold sweat and shivering. He knew who he would see before he opened his eyes.

“Is this what you were waiting for?” Loki asked hoarsely. “The chance to present yourself as a benevolent rescuer, that I might give in?”

“You ascribe quite complex motives to the simplest of actions,” Odin said calmly. He was sitting beside Loki’s sickbed, Gungnir leaning casually against the wall. “How long has it been since you slept soundly?”

Loki made his lip curl, though his heart was beating rapidly. “Why do you ask? Wishing to know if I am haunted by my wicked deeds?” 

“I am glad to hear you acknowledge them as wicked,” Odin said. “That tells me you are not so mad as I feared.”

“That must make things easier for you,” Loki said harshly. “It would be more difficult to try a madman.”

Odin’s eyebrows rose. “You assume I intend for you to be tried.” 

Loki’s thoughts stuttered on that. “Oh?” He said after a beat. “You intend to simply lock me away without even that formality, to be forgotten-”

“I have made no decision,” Odin interrupted. “I have been awaiting yours.” 

_There,_ Loki thought with savage satisfaction. _Finally._ The trap, but he was ready for it. “My decision?” He said. “I spit on your poisoned, false _mercy._ I want nothing from you, Allfather. Do as you will.” 

Odin leaned back, his expression impassive. Loki could read it as little as ever. “That is no decision, Loki,” he said. “It is an abdication of one.” 

“I am not going to fall for your _trap,_ ” Loki snarled. “You say it is my decision, but it is not. It is yours. You toy with me, letting me yank at my chains, but what happens is yours to decide. I will not play your games.” Odin regarded him in silence, and Loki tensed, shoulders almost hunching. “ _What?_ ”

“Once again,” Odin said, “you ascribe very complex motives to me. You think that I am testing you, to see what you will say, and do not want to offer me clues as to what you want. Perhaps thinking that I will simply use that knowledge to punish you most precisely. Or that I am offering you a choice only so that it can be yanked away when you make it.” Loki bit his tongue and held his silence.

Odin made a “hmm” sound. “Did Thanos do that to you?” He asked, and Loki’s blood turned to ice. 

“Why should it matter?” Loki demanded, once he had his voice. “The Titan - he reforged me. Made me _stronger._ If you think to make me quail-”

“Torture never strengthens the victim,” Odin said. “But I would believe that Thanos told you otherwise.” 

“You know nothing,” Loki snarled. “You were not there. You did not see. You left me for dead but the Titan, he-”

“You will not say his name,” Odin interrupted again. “Why?”

Loki faltered again. The Other’s voice: _your master’s name doesn’t belong on your filthy tongue._ Spitting blood, gurgling as it filled his throat and a sharp blade cutting the corners of his lips-

“Loki,” Odin said, and he was leaning forward over him, face cast in shadow. Loki flinched back. 

“Names have power,” he forced out. “I am not such a fool as to summon his attention.”

“Names have the power you give them,” Odin said. “What did he do to you, Loki, to instill such fear?” 

Loki forced himself to meet Odin’s eyes and flashed his teeth. “No more than you, Borsson,” he said. “What you see before you now is as much your creation as his. You made your own monster. All _Thanos_ did was perfect it.” His tongue curdled around the name, but he kept himself from flinching. 

For the first time, Odin seemed affected. His eyes widened and he recoiled as though Loki had struck him. A moment later his expression darkened with anger. 

“You call my mercy poisoned,” he said, “but _this_ is the poison, that Thanos has fed you. I hear his voice in yours.” 

Loki felt a flash of rage and shoved himself up. “You underestimate me as you always have. Or perhaps resent that you did not see before what I am. What need have I of the Titan’s venom, or yours, when I have my own?” 

Odin stood. “I grieve that you do not see how your venom wounds you as much as others.” 

Loki hissed. “Grieve on, old man. End this farce.” 

“No,” Odin said, his voice hard. He turned his back. “It is clear to me you must think further on my question.”

“Don’t turn your back on me,” Loki said, his voice rising. “You want to know what I want? I want Asgard _burning_ at my feet. If I cannot rule this realm as I was _born_ to do, as you claimed, then I will rule a realm of ashes.” 

Odin stopped, and for a moment Loki thought he’d won. 

“You will be silent, Loki Odinson,” he said, and Loki felt the magic gathering around him, coils tightening. “Perhaps if your tongue is still that will allow you to _think._ ”

Loki opened his mouth to reply but his tongue wouldn’t respond. His mouth worked but no sound came out. 

( _muscle flopping limply, the membrane underneath severed, garbled screams and blood spilling on thirsty stone_ )

Odin was gone. The healing room felt very quiet, and it took Loki several moments to realize that he was curled up under the bed. 

He started laughing. That didn’t make a sound either. 

* * *

The spell wore off after a couple of hours. Loki tested it by shouting curses at the top of his lungs. _Let the fires of Muspellheim melt your flesh off your bones, old man, when I get free I’ll shove Gungnir down your throat, may Nidhogg chew on your balls-_

He was vaguely proud of his creativity. No one came to stop him, though, and eventually he exhausted himself, his stomach beginning to ache. Not long after, Thor returned, dogged as ever, a stormy expression on his face. 

“Why do you provoke him?” He demanded. “Why are you acting like this, Loki? We are trying to _help_ you.”

Loki laughed, harshly. “Do you truly think that?” 

Thor frowned. “Of course. You are here, in the healing rooms. To _heal._ But you drive our father-”

“Your father,” Loki interrupted. Thor’s lips tightened. 

“Mother weeps,” he said, seemingly changing tactics. “You make her weep. What has she done to deserve your ire?” 

“She lied to me,” Loki said. “Every day, for a thousand years. And now she colludes with the All-Father to manipulate me. I will have none of it.” He sneered at Thor. “Go, Odinson. Or do you still not know a futile battle when you see one?” 

Thor’s jaw worked. “Why did you not say that you were held prisoner,” he said. Loki stiffened. 

“Did the All-Father tell you that? He lies.”

Thor shook his head. “Father did not. Our mother did.” 

_Betrayed,_ Loki thought, though he didn’t exactly know why. Part of him wanted Thor to know. Wanted to tell him, in vivid detail, everything that he had gone through to temper him, everything that had happened after Thor cast him aside. But he did not want pity. Did not want his life stripped from him again, his choices made nothing. “She knows less than she thinks.” 

“Does she?” Thor sat. “The scepter, the Chitauri...you would not bow to the latter, and the former is not the sort of thing one simply stumbles upon. Mother says someone held you captive, manipulated you-”

Loki sneered. “Do you think me so easily manipulated as that?” 

“Not easily,” Thor said. “That is what troubles me.”

Loki wasn’t sure whether to be flattered, impressed, or irritated. “Your point being?” 

“What happened when you fell into the Void?” Thor asked, with that stubborn set to his face that he got when he’d latched onto something and would not let go of it until it gave way to his will. Loki said nothing, staring back at Thor with his lips pressed together. “How did you survive?” 

Loki bared his teeth. “Perhaps I didn’t,” he said. “Did that occur to you, oh Mighty Thor? That perhaps the Loki you knew perished and I am something else come back to take his place?”

For just a moment, there was a flicker of doubt in Thor’s eyes, but then he shook his head. “No. I know my brother and, however changed, you are he.” He hesitated. “Loki, brother…will you not tell me what happened to you?” 

“You happened,” Loki said flatly. Thor’s jaw clenched, and Loki pushed on. “You, with your looming shadow and your incessant need to be the center of attention. You, who pushed me aside, spurned my efforts, kept me always a step behind and a step below. You, who kept me with you only so that your light would shine the brighter by comparison. You wanted a shadow. Now you have one.” 

Thor shook his head. “I have never seen you as my shadow.” 

Loki bared his teeth. “You didn’t need to. Everyone else already did.” 

“That is not true,” Thor said more loudly. Loki laughed. 

“And that is what it always comes to, isn’t it? _That’s not true._ You do not see it so it must not be there.” He rolled to his side to face away from Thor. “Get out. Your face makes me sick.” 

“Why will you not tell me the truth, Loki? I want to understand.” 

“Do you?” Loki turned back toward Thor, shoved himself up and bared his teeth. “Should I tell you what it was like, Thor, in the Void? It was like being swallowed by an enormous beast, digested slowly, its darkness seeping into your body like a fungus, rotting you from the inside out. And it sings, _howls,_ a symphony that consumes everything, even your own screams. There is no up or down, no beginning nor end, just endless nothingness, oblivion without the release of death, or else where the moment of death is prolonged endlessly, stretching until it snaps and it breaks, you break-”

He broke off, panting. Thor was staring at him, ashen-faced and wide-eyed. 

“Do you understand now, Odinson?” Loki forced out. His throat felt raw. “Do you feel _better?_ ”

“I am sorry,” Thor said. Loki heard himself growl.

“Keep your worthless apologies,” he said. “I do not want them. I do not want anything, from any of the House of Odin.” He was trembling, and not entirely with rage. There were insects skittering over his bones, his sight blackening at the edges. 

The feeling of Thor’s anger was almost a relief. “Whence comes this belief that you have been so ill used by our family?” Thor demanded. “You act as though we are monsters.”

Loki laughed, shrill and wild. “Oh, no. _You_ aren’t the monsters.” 

The familiar wave of Thor’s fury and frustration beat against him. “Why must you _be_ like this?” 

“It is in my nature,” Loki said. “Do you regret not leaving me to bleed yet, Odinson?” 

Thor’s anger winked out like a snuffed candle. “No,” he said. “Not that. Never that.”

Loki did not know how to answer that, so he said nothing. It felt as though the Void was within him again, chewing holes in his stomach. 

“I wish you could see how you are hurting them,” Thor said, but he no longer sounded angry, just resigned. “Perhaps then you would believe that you are loved.”

Loki flinched, involuntarily. “Love,” he said harshly. “Love means nothing.”

* * *

He was screaming, sobbing with pain, fighting with mind and soul to get away from the agony transfixing him. _Be still,_ a voice said, and Loki’s muscles locked in place. _This is necessary. You understand that, yes? Clever boy. This is the price that must be paid. Will you surrender now, to something so trivial as a little suffering?_

_Will you fail me already?_

Loki’s eyes snapped open with his heart racing. He stood, steady on his feet now, and wandered over to the window, looking out at the night sky. He stood there, arms wrapped around himself, bare feet cold on the stones, struggling to control his breathing. 

He saw something approaching and flinched back, but the shadow formed into a raven that pecked the window, croaking loudly. “Go away,” Loki told it. “Even if I could let you in, I wouldn’t.” 

“Indeed,” Odin’s voice said, “it seems such is the reply you give any who may try to reach you.” 

Loki spun round, jerking back against the window. The All-Father stood by the doorway, a second raven perched on his arm. 

“I had a son,” he said. “A curious, bright boy. Shy, and often quiet, but with an open heart. When did it close?”

Loki’s fingernails bit into his palm. “I was never your son.” 

“No? Then tell me, who was that baby whose cries kept me awake and whose smile made my heart swell? Who was the child who clung to my hand and whose fears I soothed? Or the young man who consulted me on his studies and played me at _tafl_?”

Loki gritted his teeth. “Dead,” he said harshly. 

“Then who killed him?” Odin asked. 

“I did.” Loki forced his hand to unclench and lifted his chin. “You describe a boy. A _child._ I am the thing that rose from his ashes. That boy was never more than a lie, and now he is gone.”

“Is that what Thanos told you?” 

Loki’s throat seemed to close for a moment. _Who you were before is gone. Broken. I will make you anew, Loki of Asgard. I will make you stronger._

“No,” Loki said harshly. “You never knew me so well as you thought you did. An open heart is a weakness, and Asgard does not tolerate weakness. I have made myself strong-”

“No,” Odin said. “You have made yourself brittle as hardened steel. That is no strength.” Odin shook his head. “Tell me of Thanos.” 

“I have nothing to say,” Loki said, pleased by the opportunity for defiance. 

“I do not ask for knowledge of the being himself,” Odin said. “I ask in the hopes it can help me to understand what has happened to you.” 

Loki barked a hollow laugh. “And you think _that_ will entice me to speak?” Odin’s single eye regarded him, cool and assessing. Loki did not drop his eyes for even a moment. 

“What is it that would satisfy you, Loki?” He asked. “Would you be pleased if I threw you into a dungeon for the rest of your life, there to nurse your hatred of me? Do you want me to send for the headsman, to strike your name from Asgard’s histories and order the death of my own child? Would you have me call torturers to wring answers from you? Would it satisfy some need in you for me to do these things?” 

“Are you going to?” Loki asked. His voice did not shake.

“No.” Odin sighed. “You seem to think that I have my mind made up. It is not. When I asked you what you wanted, Loki, it was not a rhetorical question. You are better than this.” 

“Better than what,” Loki snapped. 

“Than this thing you have been made into,” Odin said. “I see how you shrink from me. You flinch at every touch, or movement to touch. I am not blind, Loki, nor am I as foolish as you think. The wounds Eir described tell a story, and yet you called the Chitauri and their master your allies.”

Loki’s body coiled tight. “Your point being?” 

“What bargain did you make?” Odin asked. “Were you to retrieve the Tesseract in exchange for Midgard? Do you truly think that Thanos would grant you that power?”

 _No._ Loki had known, from the moment he’d opened his eyes in the underground laboratory, that even if he won he was going to lose. His only hope was to seize the Tesseract for himself and double-cross the Chitauri, but with the Other’s fingers in his mind, even if he _could_ defeat an army on his own, he would still fall in the end. 

There was no path to victory. _No version of this where you come out on top,_ Stark had said, and Loki had known it to be truth. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. 

“In the moment of your victory,” Odin said, “you would have been struck down. That is no bargain between equals. I wonder that you managed to convince yourself otherwise.” 

Loki laughed humorlessly. “And what ought I to have done, then? My choices were somewhat _limited,_ and as I was unwilling to martyr myself for honor-”

Odin’s eye flashed. “You might have told your brother what was happening. Instead you acted like a child, putting countless lives at risk, including your own, for the sake of a petty grudge-”

“ _Petty!_ ” Loki interrupted. “Oh, yes. The small matter of centuries of neglect, of being left behind and overshadowed while honors accumulated at Thor’s feet. After being lied to about my very _self_ for my whole life, raised with the lie that I was meant to rule when all along you intended to cast me off, a puppet king of a dying world. Such _trivial_ matters.” 

“If I seemed to favor Thor it is because you did not require the same lessons as he,” Odin said, his voice disappointingly calm. “You were born with a gift for language and diplomacy, a sense of restraint and caution. These things Thor needed to learn. You did not need-”

“What do you know of what I needed,” Loki hissed before he could bite it back, his thoughts clamoring, jangling. 

“Tell me, then,” Odin said, his gaze heavy and direct. “Tell me what I should have done, Loki.”

Loki swallowed hard. “Too late,” he said. “It is too late.”

Odin’s expression softened. “It is not. I am here, Loki, and listening.”

Loki turned his back and pressed a hand to the glass. “No.” 

He heard Odin move toward him. “I could force you to speak.” 

Loki’s throat closed and panic beat a tattoo in his chest. “Could you? I am stronger now than I was.” 

“And yet your mental defenses are full of holes.” Odin’s gaze prickled between his shoulder blades. “Unwanted intrusion leaves scars on the mind as surely as the body. Your masters were thorough.” 

Loki went rigid. “I have no _masters._ ”

“Call them by another name,” Odin said. “The truth remains. You no more led the Chitauri than you controlled the Jotnar you tricked into the Vault. You cling to the illusion of control, Loki, when in fact you are stumbling in the dark.”

Loki’s chest felt tight. “As though you are any better,” he said harshly, bitterly. “You would have me leashed and brought to heel as proof of your power. Your _tame Jotun._ ”

He heard Odin sigh. “I have wondered for a long year,” he said, “what I might have said that day on the bridge that would have saved you. That would have kept you from letting go and falling. Tell me, Loki - what words would you have had me say?”

Loki turned, only just keeping himself from gaping. The memory of those agonizing moments was both knife-edge clear and strangely blurry. _I could have done it for you,_ he remembered shouting. What would he have wanted to hear? What, in that moment poised on the precipice, could have held him back?

He shook his head. “It is pointless to speculate.” 

“I would have you speculate nonetheless.” Odin turned, suddenly looking weary. “Think on it. If you cannot tell me what you want now...perhaps at least you might tell me what you wanted then.” 

Loki let him leave. His lungs were being squeezed by a giant fist, and if he opened his mouth he was afraid of what might come out. 

* * *

Loki regarded Frigga’s extended hand warily, raising his eyes only slowly to look at her wavering smile. “Pardon?”

“Come with me,” she repeated. “Your father has granted permission for me to take you on a walk. To help you recover your strength. You will not be granted the use of your magic, but I thought it might do you good to be outside.” 

Frowning, Loki turned that over in his mind. He should refuse. He had resolved to refuse all overtures, all _offers,_ from any of his visitors. But…

He hadn’t felt Asgard’s sun on his skin in so long. Hadn’t had the simple pleasure of walking in a beautiful place. Even if it came with shackles and unwanted company… “Very well,” he said finally. “Do not expect conversation, All-Mother. Nothing has changed between us.” 

“Too much has changed,” Frigga said, quiet and sad. “But I thank you for joining me.” 

She took a familiar route, and Loki felt his heart squeeze. He noted it was empty of passersby; there were not even guards. It was just him and Frigga, and Loki wondered if it was scorn or misplaced faith. 

Frigga’s garden looked the same as it always had. Beautiful, fragrant, half wild. Loki took a deep breath of the smell and felt something wash through him: longing, wistfulness, sorrow. 

This had been a bad idea. But he didn’t turn back, just walked further in. 

“This way,” Frigga said suddenly. He paused, turning toward her. 

“To what?” 

“I have something to show you.” 

Loki held his ground a moment longer, then walked slowly, cautiously, onto the path she indicated. 

“Here,” Frigga said, and Loki stopped, looking at a bench by the path, and beside it a young tree, only about waist high. Loki glanced at the All-Mother, eyes half-closed. 

“Am I meant to sit?” He asked. Frigga smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. 

“I planted that tree a year ago,” she said. Loki held still, waiting, and she moved past him, crouching down to brush her fingers against its slender trunk. “It is not a tree of Asgard. The seeds came from Jotunheim - a time long ago when their seasons were gentler. It is said they once grew to vast heights and lived for millennia.” She sighed. “It has struggled to thrive here.”

Loki scoffed. “No wonder. It doesn’t belong.”

“But it has endured,” Frigga said, giving him a long, steady-eyed look. “It has begun to grow stronger, now. Do you know what my mistake was?” 

“I assume you are going to tell me,” Loki said. 

“I was giving it too little sun.” Frigga laughed, quietly, and smiled at him. Loki looked away, and he heard her stand. “I planted it for you. Do you know why? Odin believed it was a memorial, but what I thought was that if I could keep this tree alive, somehow it would mean that somewhere, you lived too.”

Something had lodged in Loki’s throat. He swallowed hard, trying to clear it, but it remained. “I expect you are disappointed in the realization of your wish,” he said, hoping that she took the rough edge of his voice for harshness. 

“I may be disappointed in your actions,” Frigga said. “But in the fact of your return? No, Loki. I am not disappointed.” 

Loki felt trapped, a noose closing around his neck. “What do you think to achieve with this - this appeal to sentimentality?” He demanded loudly. 

“Nothing but to show you that you were not forgotten,” Frigga said. “Nothing more nefarious than that. You may wander as you please, now. I think I will sit here a while.” 

Loki backed away from her. He managed not to run, but he made sure to put plenty of distance between them before he stopped and pressed his face into his hands, breathing hard _._

_I have wondered what I might have said that day on the bridge that could have saved you._

_If I could keep this tree alive, somehow it would mean that somewhere, you lived too._

_I missed my brother, whom I love._

Loki swallowed his scream and pounded his fist against his leg. There was too much inside him; he couldn’t hold it all. It meant nothing: regrets come too little and too late. He was better than this, stronger than this; he’d purged sentiment from him in Thanos’s forge. _Trust no one. Nothing is free._

_I break you, Loki, so that you can be remade._

He wanted to scream. He wanted to die. 

He held perfectly still, fighting for air.

* * *

Eir pronounced him nearly healed, though Loki didn’t feel it - his stomach muscles still ached and he tired too quickly. “Does this mean I am permitted to leave the healing rooms?” He asked dryly. She possessed too much decorum to laugh at him. 

“As to the question of your mind,” she said, and Loki snorted. 

“What do you need to know save that I am mad?”

“There is no use in arguing with him about this, healer,” Odin said. Loki felt his teeth click together. “You may go. I would speak with my son alone.” 

“ _Your son,_ ” Loki said. “You would yet persist in giving me that name? I would expect you to want to avoid the disgrace.”

“What disgrace?” Odin asked smoothly. “All Asgard knows that Loki Odinson drove back King Laufey’s attack, only to fall from the Bifrost in a tragic accident. That he has returned now, though wounded, is cause for celebration.” 

Loki gaped at him. “You lied to them.” 

Odin’s smile was faint and wry. “As you told me many times, an omission is not precisely the same thing as a lie.” Loki stared at him, feeling as though the green beast had thrown him across the room. 

Rage welled up. “You treat me like a _child._ As though my actions do not matter.” 

“Curious,” Odin said. “You claim not to care about the damage you cause, and yet when I do the same you object. Are you simply being contrary, or was the first an attempt to provoke me?” 

Loki opened his mouth, then closed it. “I merely point out your hypocrisy,” he snapped. Odin nodded. 

“I see.” 

Loki bristled, his hackles rising. “Do not mock me, old man.” 

“Do you hear mockery in my voice?”

His lips peeled back from his teeth. “You are testing me. Baiting me-”

“Are we back to that, then?” Odin shook his head. “I am not. You see yourself as trapped, Loki. Cornered. But there are doors in front of you, if you will choose to take them. I could choose for you, or your mother could. Your brother would like to drag you through. But whatever you choose now, it must be _yours._ ”

A tremor went through Loki, like an earthquake localized in his body. “Choices,” he sneered. “What _choices_ do you think I have?” 

“What do you want?” Odin asked. Hatefully patient. Loki yearned to throw something at his head. 

“What I want doesn’t matter,” Loki snapped. “I have known that for decades-”

“Ah,” Odin said, as though he understood something. “Better to ask for nothing and receive it than ask for something and receive nothing.” 

_You should have known,_ Loki wanted to scream. _You should have seen, I never should have_ had _to ask-_

“It was too late,” he burst out. Odin’s one eye blinked, and the words spilled out of Loki’s mouth in a rush. “On the Bifrost. You asked what you might have said. There was nothing. I was already gone.”

Odin’s expression was impossible to read. “Do you say this to absolve me or to make me despair?” 

Loki laughed harshly. “What need has the All-Father of a traitor’s absolution?” 

“Ask rather what need has a father of his son’s,” Odin said, and for a moment Loki could not breathe. He stared at Odin, wide-eyed and frantic. He felt as though he’d just been handed a key, but he didn’t know what door it opened. 

“You’re a fool,” Loki said. His voice sounded wild. “An old man who understands nothing, who believes-” He stumbled. His throat worked, but his words were gone, dried up. Nothing made sense. He clawed at his chest, stumbling back. “Leave me-”

“You asked me, that day in the vault,” Odin said. “I told you that you were my son, and you asked, _What more than that?_ I should have said, _Is that not enough?_ ”

“I am not,” Loki said. His voice sounded weak, reedy. “Your son. I am not.” 

“When did you cease to be? I do not recall ever making it so.”

Loki turned his head to the side and closed his eyes, unable to bear it. “Stop this,” he said. “I _beg_ of you, All-Father. Stop this cruelty. You created the monster. End it. I am responsible for the deaths of the guards in the Vault on the day of Thor’s coronation. I lured Laufey here and slew him in treachery. I would have slaughtered every Jotun on their thrice-cursed Realm, I sought to conquer Midgard, I _killed Thor._ ” He was gasping for air. Every breath hurt. “If you think this is mercy - _please._ ”

Silence.

“Is that what you want?” Odin’s voice was quiet, almost gentle. Loki felt himself shudder, near to breaking. 

“Yes,” he said. 

“I will...see what may be done,” Odin said. Loki made himself nod, and waited until he heard the door close.

Loki folded to the ground, his forehead pressed against the cold stone floor, and wept until his throat was raw. When it finally stopped, he did not feel better. Just tired, and miserably relieved. 

* * *

He drifted. Not sleeping, no - just drifting, vaguely aware of his surroundings but unable to care. He stayed where he was, slumped against the wall, even as his back cramped. He wondered how long they would wait. Would it be public? Or - and this, Loki thought, would be better - just him and Odin and the executioner’s axe. He imagined it, staring at the blank wall across from him. Beheading was supposed to be merciful. 

Odin wouldn’t make him suffer, would he? Not after all of that.

“You asked father to _execute_ you?” 

Loki sighed. “Hello, Thor.” 

“If this is a jest, Loki, it is a very poor one,” Thor said, his voice perilously near to a roar. 

“I would like to think I am a better jester than that,” Loki murmured. Thor stormed - ha - over to him, and Loki opened his eyes to look up at him. “Did the All-Father himself inform you, or is the All-Mother once again passing on secrets that aren’t hers to offer?” 

Thor’s fists clenched. “So it is true, then,” he said. “You told our father that what you want is - is to _die._ ”

 _Not_ die, _necessarily,_ Loki thought, _but...stop. You don’t know how it feels._ He was fairly certain the distinction would be lost on Thor, though. “I did.”

Thor’s face was red with rage. “How _could_ you? Why would you want - why would you _say -_ were you _bluffing_ him? Testing to see if-”

“No,” Loki said. “Nothing so elaborate.” 

“But-” 

Not rage, Loki realized with horror. Tears. 

“Would it make you feel better,” he asked, surprised by the gentleness of his voice, “if I was bluffing?” 

Thor took a ragged breath. “You were not,” he said, and Loki had believed he wanted that anguish in Thor’s voice, but hearing it just made his stomach twist. “And now you seek to spare me that knowledge. Loki...why?” 

“Why?” Loki echoed. “Do you think you will find some meaning in it? Is there an explanation that would satisfy you? If I told you that I am plagued with guilt for my wicked deeds, would that answer your question?”

Thor’s jaw set. “If that is true, then you should live to atone for them.” 

Loki laughed. “How about another answer, Thor? I am tired. Tired of playing this endless game. Tired of you, of Asgard, of myself.” He half closed his eyes. “The All-Father asked what I wanted. I told him.”

“No,” Thor said loudly. “I refuse to allow-”

“Did anyone ask you?” Loki interrupted. “Was it ever implied that it was yours to allow or not allow?”

“You are my _brother,_ ” Thor said. 

“And that gives you mastery over me?” Thor’s expression crumpled. Loki could not look at it, and closed his eyes. “You poor fool,” he said. “Did you really think that this would end any other way?” 

“Thor,” said Odin’s voice, and Loki smiled. “Go.”

“Father,” Thor said, a note of pleading in his voice. “This is madness. You must not-”

“Go,” Odin said again, this time more firmly. Loki could hear Thor struggling, hear him wanting to argue. “Thor,” the All-Father said, this time in a voice of warning. “Leave, or I will have you ejected.” 

“I am going to speak to mother,” Thor said, his voice hard, but Loki heard him leave. He leaned back and opened his eyes. 

“Is it time, then?” 

“Come with me,” Odin said. He was alone - no guards, but then he did not truly need them. He held Gungnir and Loki eyed it, wondering if the Odinforce was to be the means of his death, as it had been his birth father’s. There was a pleasing kind of symmetry to that. 

He pushed himself up to his feet, brushing off his soft invalid’s clothing. “Lead on,” he said simply. There was no expression on the All-Father’s face; no way of knowing the direction of his thoughts. He turned, and Loki followed. 

Odin took him through little used hallways, and even those few that passed them did not so much as glance twice at them. Loki could feel the tingle of magic on his skin keeping them hidden, and narrowed his eyes. 

“So is it to be a private affair, then?” He asked. The old fear tried to come creeping back in, but he pushed it away. “I suppose that is understandable. If Asgard does not know the truth…”

“Be silent,” Odin said. Loki closed his mouth, startled and a little stung. There had been a trace of anger in the All-Father’s voice. 

But he didn’t try to speak again. 

The pathway they were following was unfamiliar, Loki realized. They reached a set of stairs and began to descend. Loki’s breath caught as the ceiling closed over him, his lungs tightening. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand. 

Was this to be his fate? Entombed alive, deep in the bowels of Asgard’s palace, buried here in the dark, forgotten-

“Loki.” He realized that he had stopped dead, and Odin had turned and come back, standing before him. “What is it?” 

“I am not very fond of small spaces,” Loki said. He knew his smile must look mad, but he donned one anyway. “If you intend to bury me I would ask for the mercy of unconsciousness.” 

Odin’s expression spasmed. He turned. “This way,” he said. “It is not much farther.” 

Loki made himself straighten and followed after. 

It didn’t seem like such a short distance. Loki’s heart hammered in his chest and he had to focus every moment on not breaking and screaming. _He is doing this on purpose,_ a voice whispered in Loki’s mind. _He is trying to destroy you, to break you apart before your death._

He almost ran into Odin when he finally stopped. He reached up and murmured a spell, too softly for Loki to hear. 

“Where are we?” Loki asked. 

“Outside the city,” Odin said. “To the west.” 

_Outside? Why take me here?_ Loki’s heart was pounding nervously. Something felt strange about all of this, and he didn’t know what that _meant._ “What is here?” He dared to ask. Odin said nothing, opening a door overhead that hadn’t been there before and pulling down a set of stairs. 

“Go up,” Odin said, gesturing, and Loki made himself move, made himself walk. He spared a passing thought for Frigga - perhaps that was why they were here, to spare her.

He climbed out onto a grassy hillside overlooking the water. It was evening - he could tell by the fall of the light. He closed his eyes, listening to Odin emerge, the door closing. Then silence. 

Would there be words? Would Odin simply stab him in the back, or obliterate him with Gungnir? 

_Face him, you coward._ Loki made himself turn, and found that Odin was not looking at him at all, but at one of the moons hanging low in the sky. He looked tired. Aged. 

“Loki…” He said, and trailed off. 

“What are you waiting for?” Loki demanded. “Get on with it.” He tried to make his voice sound steady, defiant, but it shook ever so slightly. 

Odin turned toward him, finally. “There is a gate,” he said. “One of the hidden passageways between Realms. I know you know how to use them. Fifty paces to the south, you will find it.”

Loki felt as though he’d been struck in the head. “What?” 

“The binding on you will fade in a couple of days,” Odin said. “Midgard is closed to you - no pathway will bring you there.”

Loki licked his lips and swallowed hard. _There’s a trap. There has to be._ “What is this, old man? Another test? I told you that I will not play your games-”

“You did tell me,” Odin said. “But I will not be my son’s executioner.”

Loki stared at him. Odin looked back, his one eye inscrutable. Loki’s chest constricted and he tried to suck in a full breath, his head suddenly spinning. “You cannot possibly be serious,” he said. “Do you think I will honestly believe you intend to just - let me _go?_ ”

Odin just looked at him in silence, solemn. Loki let out a shrill laugh. “And you would have it that _I_ am mad! And yet you, Odin All-Father, would unleash your pet monster on the Realms out of - out of what, pity? I did not ask-”

“It is plain to me,” Odin said, “that keeping you locked away will do nothing but cause your mind to fester, this infection in your soul to worsen. What choices do I have?”

Loki panted, ragged and uneven. “You are a fool. What is to say I will not return to Asgard with an army at my back-”

“Do you intend to?” 

“I could!” 

“I did not ask if you _could,_ ” Odin said. “I asked if you _intended_ to.” 

Loki wavered. He looked toward the south. “There is nothing here I want,” he said finally, desperately, which was true. Which was a lie. 

_What_ do _you want, Loki?_

He wanted to lie in Frigga’s garden breathing the fragrance of the flowers. He wanted to ride with Thor through Asgard’s wilderness, laughing at some crude joke Thor had heard on the training fields. He wanted to come _home._

_This isn’t home. You don’t belong here._

_Run now, before he changes his mind, before they lock you away again._

_And go where?_

There was nowhere to go. Nowhere that was _safe,_ and maybe that was the point, maybe _that_ was what he was meant to realize, that there _was_ no escape. Asgard was the only place where he might be able to avoid Thanos’s reach for a time, to avoid the punishment for failure. 

“I can’t,” Loki said, his voice fracturing. “Is that what you want to hear? I have nowhere to go. He’ll find me, and this time I won’t be able to get away, and he will _never_ let me die-”

“Loki-”

“Nowhere is safe,” Loki gasped. The air was too thin. He was starting to feel dizzy. “ _Nowhere._ I should have died. Why did you save me, why are you _doing_ this to me-”

“Because you are my son,” Odin said. His voice sounded thick, and Loki could not look at him, was afraid to see him weeping. “I am not trying to hurt you. I am trying to find a way to save you.”

“You cannot,” Loki said. “There is nothing left to save.” 

“I do not believe that,” Odin said. “I will never believe that.”

Loki said nothing. He breathed raggedly, shaking. The words were on the tip of his tongue: _I want nothing you have to offer._

He didn’t voice them. 

“What do you want, Loki?” Odin asked again.

Loki closed his eyes. “I want to go home.”

“You can,” Odin said.

There was a very soft breeze, carrying the smell of a sea. Loki inhaled slowly, holding it. Exhaling.

“Not yet.”


End file.
